


Sheer Brutality

by Peachuzoid



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peachuzoid/pseuds/Peachuzoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now I'm only gonna ask once," Rick began, his voice raw with anger. He slightly craned his head to the side, a slight pop giving way as he all but whispered in the man's ear, "Where'd you get the vest and crossbow?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rick knew going off by himself wasn't the smartest idea. But when he recognized those men from the house, he was grateful Carl and Michonne weren't with him. There was something different about the group now though, something they currently had that they didn't before. Or at least Rick hoped. He hadn't seen all of them previously.

One was sporting the all too familiar vest Rick recognized with the wings on the back, another wielding the Stryker crossbow. And it made his stomach churn at the thought of his friend, his brother, being left to die out there. Or worse. Because there was no way Daryl could have taken the whole lot of them on, alone.

This was where it got tricky though. Rick knew he had to confront them, knew one in their group would remember him from within that house. Knew they would kill him. But he couldn't involve his son and Michonne in this. He couldn't risk it. He also couldn't risk going back for them or leaving this newfound group of marauders. So, naturally, he'd wait until the timing was right. He kept a watchful eye on the gang of men, listened in on what he could, clenched his fists in anger over and over and over.

He didn't make himself known until the sun was long gone, the moon shining above. The cicadas in the night were as loud as ever, the small fire they had going enough light to illuminate all Rick needed. Half of the men were asleep. And with a firm hand on what appeared to be the leader's shoulder, Rick crouched behind him, Colt Python pressed to the man's temple.

"Now I'm only gonna ask once," Rick began, his voice raw with anger. He slightly craned his head to the side, a slight pop giving way as he all but whispered in the man's ear, "Where'd you get the vest and crossbow?"

No matter how threatening Rick tried to portray himself, it seemed futile. The gray haired man just unleashed a chuckle as though Rick was nothing more than a mere joke. Perhaps he was, thinking he could take them.

"Tony, you mind shining a little light on the situation at hand?"

Rick glanced over to the man who got to his feet, bandana wrapped around his head. There was a slow spreading grin as they locked eyes for the second time. "We got him, Joe."

Joe immediately threw his head back, crashing into Rick's face and instantaneously bloodying his nose. Rick kept a hold of his gun as he stumbled back, regretting his crouched position as he landed on his behind, defenseless. The other men were coming to and taking up a position to surround him alongside Joe and Tony.

"Well, I'll be damned. How lucky are we? We've been trying to track you but instead, you come to us." Joe was facing him now, hands in his pockets and a smug grin etched on his face.

Rick got back on his feet and wiped his sleeve across his nose. With five good-sized men surrounding him and no true foolproof plan, he had his arms full.

"Now, what was it you were saying about a vest and crossbow?" Joe inquired, taunting.

Rick raised his revolver but was met with various weapons being raised to meet him in return. He narrowed his eyes at Joe, trying to get a reading, but of course, the man showed nothing. "You know what I said."

"I do." Joe nodded, taking a step back. He pulled his arms behind his back and slightly paced. "But what I don't know is why you'd have any interest in these items. Surely you knew this plan of yours was suicide."

"Maybe he knew him," the one aiming Daryl's crossbow at Rick's back spoke.

Rick's trigger-finger itched at the mentioning of Daryl in past tense. He had little to no hope for anyone making it out of the prison, but that all changed when Michonne found them. And if anyone could make it on their own, it was certainly Daryl. The thought of him meeting his demise through these animals...

"So we're at somewhat of a crossroad here. We have something you want, you have something we want..." Joe shrugged. "...in a sense."

"Where is he?" Rick ground out through gritted teeth.

"Let's just say things didn't quite work out between us."


	2. Chapter 2

_"C'mon, farmer's boy. We're going on a run." Daryl strode past Rick with his crossbow dangling by his side._

_Rick stabbed the shovel into the ground and wiped the sweat from his brow. He kept that arm across his forehead in an attempt to block out the sun's harsh rays, the other hand upon his hip. Daryl was headed down to the fence line with Michonne in tow. The two of them were always on the move. Always working, always going on runs._

_Rick looked back beside him. Hershel was on his knee, tending to the crops they had managed to plant thus far. Carl was there helping him. The only difference was that Carl was staring back at Rick, Hershel seeming adamant about not glancing back. Not even for a moment._

_He knew why. Understood his reasoning. Hershel had already explained it previously._

_"You comin' or not? Ain't got all day," Daryl called out. He was leaning against the open driver's side door of the Charger, arm draped over it._

_Rick took in his surroundings then, as though it would be the last time he'd see it._

_Karen, Chloe, Tyreese, and a handful of others were spread out along the perimeter of the yard, taking care of the piling walkers prying their way forward._

_His daughter swaying ever-so-gently in the arms of the youngest Greene. Beth was singing, her voice soft, hair glowing in the radiant sun. He could almost hear Judith's sweet little coo's and see Beth's smile as Zach approached them._

_Luke appeared to be crying. His knee was scuffed, most likely from playing around. Patrick, Lizzie, and Mika were close by. Bob was kneeled down beside Luke, examining the scrapes._

_And if he could place a guess, Maggie and Glenn were up in the watch tower._

_"Rick."_

_Daryl's voice snapped Rick out of it. His posture seemed more impatient, leaning heavier on the door with both arms now._

_"Coming," Rick called back. He looked back at his son and Hershel. Neither looked to him now, Hershel explaining to Carl how nice it'd be once they got a few rainfalls. Lately, everything had just been too dry._

_And as Rick carried his feet forward, he didn't realize what sort of mistake he had just made._

\- - -

Michonne watched on as Carl fiddled with another twig, twirling it in his fingers before breaking it till he couldn't any more. It was the sixth twig he had picked up.

"He'll be back soon."

"Why isn't he back now? He left before the sun set." Carl muttered, "We should have gone with him."

Michonne let out a quiet sigh. Everything seemed to be going fairly well thus far. They were on their way to Terminus. They were trying to reunite with the others, whoever was still left standing. Maybe Rick had stumbled across a path that showed evidence of their group.

Just as she was about to speak up again, a single gunshot rang out. She kicked up off the tree she was leaning against as her hand shot straight for the katana at her back, fingers gripping the handle. There were four more gunshots that followed shortly after.

Carl was on his feet and running in the direction it came from instantaneously, Michonne chasing after him. Any panic or dread they were feeling had just intensified.

The night was silent other than the heavy footfalls crunching along nature's debris. They ducked and weaved their way through brush and low branches that hung in their way. And they didn't even begin to slow down until they could make out the faint glowing of a small campfire, a dark silhouette standing near.

Michonne protectively pushed her way in front of Carl. Her katana was lined up in front of her as she took a few cautious steps forward. The figure remained stationary. Her eyes briefly wandered over the scene and took note of at least five dead men, their bodies littering the ground. Only once her vision focused did she realize the shadow of the man before them was none other than Rick.

"…Dad?" Carl tried to swerve around Michonne, but she gently placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder and coaxed him back.

Rick's face was covered in blood. The thick, crimson liquid surrounded his mouth. It was in his beard. There were speckles and splatters across his face and shirt, his arms. He was staring down at the ground, revolver in hand.

He suddenly sighed heavily as though he were holding his breath, the gun clattering to the ground. The abrupt noise had slightly startled Michonne as she blinked in disbelief.

"Dad—"

"I'm fine," the words sounded pained. Rick nodded, stumbled forward. Stopped. "I'm—I'm fine..."

Michonne, although a bit wary, slid the katana back into its sheath. She didn't need to necessarily ask what had happened. He had killed those men, that much was evident. But why and how were more appropriate questions.

"Rick." Michonne decided to close the gap between them. He looked up, met her stare as she approached.

"I had to." Rick shook his head. Repeated, "I had to… I couldn't risk it. Daryl—" he cut himself short. His eyes flitted over the bodies as he stumbled back.

Michonne tried to follow his line of vision. Didn't know how she didn't notice it before. One of the men was lying face down, Daryl's winged vest visible from his back. Carl had walked forward and picked up Daryl's crossbow from off the ground, having noticed it too.

She was almost afraid to ask. But she let the words slip anyway.

"Where is he?"

A few moments of silence passed before Rick eventually replied, his words mumbled: "I don't know."

\- - -

_Rick dazed out the window from the backseat, Michonne having called shotgun. She and Daryl softly bickered back and forth over things that must have happened on previous runs. Hearing them laugh was a rare occurrence though, and it brought a smile to Rick's face._

_About an hour later, they came to a stop just on the outskirts of a small neighborhood. Daryl killed the engine and they exited the vehicle, each door closing one after another. There were a few straggling walkers down the street but none seemed all too aware of their company._

_"Thought for sure you were going to run that one over back there," Rick joked._

_"Believe me, he thought about it. I could see the hesitation in the grip on the steering wheel." Michonne smirked as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her katana. She started walking toward the closest house._

_Daryl scoffed. "Yeah. Would've, but promised Zach I'd bring the car back in one piece." He carried the crossbow at his side in his right hand, following Michonne down the cracked sidewalk. "Now if we had the truck, that'd be different."_

_Rick carried on after them, shaking his head with a grin. Being outside of the prison fences felt nice. It had been a while since Rick felt obliged to go on a run. He'd always found a reason to stay back while the others went out. Figured it wouldn't hurt, just this one time. Daryl had always been the one to voice his opinion on the matter. Never let Rick off the hook for "chickening out"._

_Said he had to stop playing pretend._

_"Probably stick together. Least for the first few. Haven't been out this way yet," Daryl explained._

_They approached the first house, a pale yellow sided two story with white shutters. The wooden stairs that led up the front porch creaked under their weight. There was some drapery that had swooped out of the broken portion of the large picture window, flowing in the slight breeze._

_Rick noticed Daryl had come to a halt just in front of him while Michonne headed straight for the door. He met his stare just as Michonne unsheathed the katana and used its handle to bang against the old door, the noise echoing through the quiet suburb._

_Daryl's eyes drifted to the holstered revolver on Rick's belt causing Rick to lightly brush his fingers across the weapon. The metal was cold to the touch, even on the hottest of days lately. He flicked the holster open with his thumb and wrapped his fingers around the gun. Pulled it free._

_Daryl gave a curt nod, raised the crossbow and turned back to Michonne before they proceeded onward._

\- - -

Rick led the way through the woods, backtracking from where Joe and his group must have come from, eyes searching over every little detail possible. He knew trying to find Daryl at this time of night would be next to impossible. It was dangerous and too hard to see in the distance. But Michonne didn't say a word and neither did Carl. Because this was Daryl they were looking for, and none of them were ready to give up until they found him.

Every so often, Rick would shine the flashlight on the ground in hopes of finding a sign. When he noticed something different, something other than dirt, twigs, and leaves, he froze.

Blood. He was seeing blood.

Rick turned to see Michonne was examining the nearest tree and found the same results. Blood on the tree, blood on the ground. And it seemed to make a sort of trail. Rick felt as though his heart was in his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Rick scoured over everything then: the nearby walkers, the few bodies that littered the ground. After encountering two walkers and a deceased body of one, he didn't think he could keep going. He couldn't even kill the two walkers, only side stepped them as Michonne put them down. It hadn't even occurred to him that others from the prison could be out here too, making him feel even sicker.

Carl checked the next body they came to on the ground. He looked back at Rick and shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. Because it wasn't Daryl.

Rick scrubbed a shaky hand over his blood clotted beard. He knew Carl meant well with the fleeting smile, knew it meant they were that much more hopeful at finding Daryl alive. But the odds seemed to keep slipping.

Rick followed the trail of blood the best he could, Michonne and Carl keeping a watchful eye of their surroundings. They reached a paved road just as Rick allowed himself to look up from the ground and straight ahead to where the path might have led. Rick's vision blurred as he made out two bodies on the ground next to an abandoned, rusty SUV. For a moment, he couldn't tell if he was seeing things or if it was real. But one of the two bodies looked like he had a mop of dark hair and a leather-like jacket.

Rick passed his gun and flashlight off to Carl before pulling the strap of the crossbow over his head, setting it on the ground, and approached the SUV. The one body, which as Rick got closer could tell was a dispatched walker, was almost lying completely on top of the other body. He cautiously reached forward to pull the dead back but stopped when there was a low moan.

Carl had jogged over closer then and shined the light down on them, Michonne right behind him, katana ready for Rick's sake. They were almost caught off guard once they realized it was, in fact, Daryl.


	3. Chapter 3

"He's alive," the words rolled off Rick's tongue upon noticing Daryl had his eyes squeezed shut in a look of agony. He gripped the body of the dead walker and pulled it off of Daryl, Michonne assisting. Daryl's knife was buried in the head of the walker, blood slick around the handle. But the sudden shift of weight must have sent a surge of pain through Daryl because he had inhaled sharply.

Rick remained crouched by Daryl's side and turned slightly to signal Carl for the flashlight. As much as he didn't want to, he needed to see what damage was done. Even his breathing seemed a bit pained, labored.

"Daryl? Can you hear me?" Rick briefly ran the light over his face and had to physically make himself look away. Daryl looked about as bad as he had after the Governor—bruises, cuts, and blood. Maybe even worse.

Michonne was sat on her knees by Daryl's head and ran her hand over his forehead, pushing some of his frayed and damp hair out of the way. "He feels pretty cool…"

Rick trailed the light over the rest of his body and stopped at Daryl's left hand. He was covering a decent wound because Rick could see the blood forcing its way through the cracks between his fingers. Rick cautiously grabbed Daryl's hand and gently pulled it away from his body to reveal the injury. It was a deep laceration in his side that partially wrapped around to his abdomen.

Daryl shivered as a slight moan escaped his lips. He vaguely lifted his right arm in what appeared to be an attempt to push Rick away but stopped almost immediately. Returned that arm back to the ground beside him, face scrunched in misery.

His whole body was probably broken.

There was a shuffle of foliage nearby that grabbed the trio's attention. At this point, they were expecting anything. Carl stood at the ready with his gun and Michonne got back on her feet. It was shortly after that they could make out the low guttural growl.

"We need to move. Those gunshots are gonna bring walkers in from all around us," Michonne warned.

"We could stay in the vehicle," Carl tried. "It'd at least provide some type of protection."

"I don't… I don't know if we can move Daryl." Rick carefully coaxed Daryl's hand back down over the wound, Daryl slightly twitching. Moving Daryl could cause him to bleed that much heavier, and risk jostling any broken bones he may have. The last thing Rick wanted to do was purposely inflict more pain on him.

Michonne only bowed her head in response. Rick knew that was her way of saying she understood but disagreed. So, she busied herself with taking care of the couple approaching walkers.

"We have to do _something_."

Rick looked to his son, then back down at Daryl. Carl was right. They couldn't just stay out in the open. Their only choice seemed to be the SUV, most likely where Daryl was headed himself.

Rick tried the door to the backseat. He was grateful to find it unlocked as it screeched in protest on worn hinges. "Michonne, help me get Daryl up."

Michonne stabbed her katana through the last walker's head before she slid it back into the sheath and jogged over. She joined Rick's side crouched beside Daryl. Hesitation in her voice, she asked, "You sure he wasn't bit?"

"I didn't really look. But I didn't see anything," Rick admitted. "Carl, keep an eye out. And don't shoot unless—"

"Unless I have to. I know." Carl stepped out a little ways to get a better view of their surroundings, pistol raised. There were still approaching walkers but thus far, none too close.

\- - -

_After a couple houses, the trio decided to split up. It made searching progress a little faster. Rick chose an old brick style ranch home. It still looked to be in pretty good condition. Only it needed some lawn work._

_He followed the path to the front door. Stood on the little concrete patio, rapped his knuckles against the screen door. Listened._

_There wasn't any sound coming from inside, so he took that as an okay to try the door. Surprisingly, he found them both to be unlocked. Entered and shut them behind him. Tucked away in the safety of the abandoned home._

_The objective was to find anything they could use back at the prison, whether it was clothing, silverware, or just some books to read and pass the time. Rick decided to check the kitchen first, walking through what used to be the living room to reach it. The sound of glass crunching under his boot caught his attention though. He moved his foot back, crouched down and brushed the shards of glass away to reveal an old family portrait. He pulled the picture free from the busted frame. Took in the image of the husband and wife holding their newborn._

_His stare had remained fixed on that picture for some time before he flipped it over in hopes of finding a date, or even the possibility of their names having been scrawled across there. But it was blank._

_Rick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Didn't understand why Daryl always had to be so adamant about him going on runs. He wasn't cut out for this. He didn't want anyone to look up to him. Not anymore._

_He set the picture face down on the little oak side table next to the couch. And as he stepped through the doorway into the kitchen, he hesitated going any further. There was blood on the sides of the counters, on the floor. And it looked like someone had dragged a body from there out the back door, the path of dried blood stained into the linoleum._

_Rick barely noticed a faint banging from somewhere nearby. Assumed it was something caught in the wind and hitting the side of the house. Hadn't thought anything of it being a walker. Especially inside the house with him. Least, not until he could hear the low growl growing closer._

_He whipped around just in time to see a female walker rushing at him. He immediately grabbed her by her arms to hold her back, the force of her body knocking him back against the wall. He recognized her as the mother from the photograph as she tried to lash out and tear her teeth into him._

_Just as Rick was about to shove her off of him, hopefully allowing enough time to reach the knife on his belt, he was welcomed by another guest. Her husband. And the added weight of him pressing against her trying to reach Rick stunted his ability to reach the blade._

\- - -

Daryl bit back a pained cry as Rick and Michonne hefted him back to his feet. Rick could feel Daryl's hand shoot out for him, gripping him by his jacket with his bloodied hand to help steady himself. Daryl's breathing had become erratic just from the little bit of movement.

Michonne had Daryl's right arm around her, her left hand planted across his lower back. She locked her stare onto Rick in the moment, her eyes slightly widened in fear.

Rick wanted to ask but Daryl suddenly dipped toward the ground, his legs giving out. His hold on Rick's jacket dropped as Rick and Michonne held onto him tighter. Rick only hoped that meant Daryl passed out and nothing more.

"You got him?" Michonne glanced back over. Worry still etched on her face but probably not as bad as his own.

Rick nodded. He got Daryl's arm around his neck and cautiously wrapped an arm around his chest. Michonne ducked out from under Daryl's other arm and quickly climbed her way into the backseat of the SUV.

It proved to be a hell of a time getting Daryl's body into the vehicle, his head rested in Michonne's lap. But it was worth it. And they were thankful he wasn't conscious through it.

"Carl." Rick flagged him over after shutting the back door. He hopped into the driver's seat after grabbing Daryl's crossbow as Carl ran around and made it to the passenger's side. The walkers were more attracted to the location of where the gunshots came from. The few that were in sight hadn't quite noticed them as they kept trailing on.

Rick turned to look back and see how Michonne and Daryl were doing. She had one hand covering the laceration, the other running over his forehead and hair. He didn't need the flashlight to know that they were all covered in blood. Daryl's blood.

"He was stabbed. In the back," Michonne spoke, breaking the silence. "There's not a whole lot we can do in this confined space. But we need to stop the bleeding."

\- - -

_Rick saw it before he heard it._

_The bolt went straight through the female walker's head, her dead weight falling further onto Rick. The second walker had fallen closer by default, but Rick barely had time to register that as Daryl had grabbed it by what hair it had left and jammed his knife into the back of its skull. The body fell to the ground with a thud._

_Rick stared down at them, hands perched back on his hips as he caught his breath. He tentatively raised his head up to meet Daryl's hardened stare. Expected him to yell at him, almost. Because, once again, he had been careless. Ill prepared with both his revolver and knife holstered on his belt._

_"C'mon," was all Daryl said. Turned his back and started walking toward the front door to leave._

_Rick followed, unsure of what to say. A thanks was unnecessary. Daryl would just shrug it off. So, he said what he hoped would be suitable in this situation:_

_"Maybe I can return the favor someday." Rick tried to lighten the mood. Forced a small laugh. "Just a little rusty right now, is all."_

_Daryl scoffed but nevertheless, he still looked back with a little grin. "Rusty's an understatement. But hopefully we won't have to worry 'bout that."_


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed like the morning sun rose up into the sky within no time at all, the red hues glaring across the horizon. Rick and Michonne had gotten little to no sleep, eyes burning, hands covered with dried blood. They had slowed the bleeding, Michonne having kept pressure on the wounds the best she could. Torn cloth wrapped around said wounds helped. Now the bleeding had stopped, but Daryl never woke from his unconscious state.

Michonne shook her head as Rick glanced back again. He vaguely nodded in understanding. Looked over to Carl in the passenger’s seat, asleep. Actually _smiled_. Because there he was, his son, wearing Daryl's vest. Which of course was too big on his small frame.

The smile soon faded though as reality came back around. Rick touched his forehead to the window with a heavy sigh. Briefly closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle. It seemed like that was all he did nowadays. Everything was out of his power. Out of his control.

"Could probably go ahead and get some fresh air." Rick opened his eyes. "We have the daylight on our side now. Make sure we didn't miss anything." He let his voice trail off along with his thoughts.

Carl awoke from the car door closing, eyes fluttering open in a haze. He rubbed at his eyes before abruptly exiting the vehicle himself after glancing back at Michonne. She smiled weakly, Daryl's head still resting in her lap.

Rick opened the door to the backseat on his side as Carl mirrored him on the opposite side, allowing a bit of a cool morning breeze to drift through the stuffy vehicle.

"He's gotten a little warmer since last night. Hard to tell from what, though." Michonne filled them in. She shrugged. "It could be a good thing."

"I doubt its good," Rick muttered. He tried to keep the pessimism to a minimum but seeing how their luck had run thus far, it was a stretch for things to take a turn for the better that easily. "Could be the start of an infection."

"Or it could just be from the enclosed space," Michonne tried. She looked to Carl and he nodded.

Rick took a moment to glance over Daryl with the daylight seeping in. He had a cut across the bridge of his nose, most likely from a well landed right hook, and a black eye to accompany it. It was hard to tell what other damage had been done besides a couple scrapes here and there. His jacket probably hid all of it.

And as if he could sense all the staring eyes, Daryl suddenly jolted awake. He inhaled sharply, pain radiating through his body. Michonne quickly placed a hand on his shoulder with the other across his forehead. The last thing he needed was to shuffle around too much.

"Daryl," Michonne got his attention. "It's alright. It's just us."

It took a brief moment before Daryl registered her words and stilled himself. Rick noticed that when he first came to, he was desperately searching all around him. Unaware of where he was, having forgotten what happened. Or maybe a nightmare. Possibly both.

Daryl groaned as Michonne carefully pushed him forward a little so that he wasn't lying entirely on his right side. The stab wound on his back was lower and to the right. She was trying to keep him from more agony.

"Don't move. Just rest, okay?" Michonne brushed her hand along his forehead and through his hair in a comforting gesture.

“...’kay,” Daryl mumbled under his breath. Once he realized where he was and who had him, Michonne didn’t need to repeat herself. Daryl wasn’t planning on moving if he didn’t have to.  

Michonne cautiously eased herself out from under Daryl's head, gently resting him back onto the seat once she was clear. She walked over to Rick's side and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "We could use some water. Think we passed a creek not too far from here. Get a little cleaned up," she paused. "Especially you."

Rick nodded in agreement, almost having forgotten his own face and beard were caked in dried blood. He glanced over at his son as Carl rounded the vehicle now.

"Go. I'll stay with Daryl. We'll be fine," Carl assured.

Rick exchanged glances with Michonne. She shrugged.

“It’s not far and we wouldn’t be gone long. Anything happens, we’ll be back in the blink of an eye.”

“Alright…” Rick caved. He knew they’d have to go eventually. And now was as good a time as any, with Daryl conscious again.

He made his way over to Daryl and cautiously placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Daryl slightly flinched at the touch. “Hey, it’s just me. It’s Rick,” he began. “Didn’t mean to startle you… But Michonne and I are gonna leave for a bit. We’ll be right back. Carl will stay here. We’re just gonna try and get cleaned up. After yesterday…”

“You alright? All of ya?” Daryl cringed as he strained himself to try and look over at Rick. Rick rested his hand back on his shoulder again, telling him not to move.

“We’re fine. Just worried about you,” Rick filled him in.

Daryl brushed his fingers over the wound in his side. Looked down to try and assess the damage done. “M’fine. Hurts like hell, though.”

“Just stay put until we get back.” Rick walked away. Forced a smile toward Carl, pointing. “You’re in charge until then.”

* * *

Carl watched his dad and Michonne walk away until they were out of sight, his stare fixated on the surrounding trees soon after. He blinked a few times to sort of snap himself out of it. Got a good look all around them to make sure there were no immediate threats. No walkers. No other humans.

He glanced back at Daryl to see him trying to prop himself up more. Probably trying to sit, or get out of the vehicle. Carl rushed to his side, stepping up onto the running board and ducking his head in. He immediately pushed his hand down on Daryl’s shoulder much like Rick had.

“You’re not supposed to get up. You’re gonna hurt yourself even more,” Carl warned.

“Ain’t much else that could go wrong, is there?” Daryl retorted. His voice was leaning on the snappy side. Argumentative. Defensive.

Carl sighed. Understood what Daryl was getting at. The whole picture.

“Just rest. Please?”

Daryl settled back down onto the seat with a huff. He had his eyes drawn tightly shut. Raised his left arm up off his side and ran it over the cut on his nose.

“Anything broken?” Carl stepped back down off the running board and leaned against the door.

“Nah. Not that I can tell.”

Carl chewed on his lip. “What happened?”

“Was with a group of guys. They were goin’ after your dad for killin’ one in their group. Didn’t know it until we came up on ya guys.” Daryl paused. Rubbed his forehead. “They didn’t see ya but I did. Tried to go off on my own but they stopped me... Took my vest and crossbow as a sorta payment.”

Carl knew he wasn’t going to get the full details but with Daryl’s explanation, it filled in all the gaps. In a sense, Daryl had saved them. Distracted them from moving forward and finding them. Then his dad must have stumbled upon them. With Daryl’s belongings.

“We got your stuff back,” Carl replied. “Dad found ‘em. Those guys. They’re dead.”

A faint smile passed over Daryl’s lips. “Good.”

* * *

“Look much better. Not so scary anymore.” Michonne smiled at Rick. “Could still use a bit of a trim,” she teased.

It took a few minutes, but they were both scrubbed clean of blood. It took the longest to get it out of Rick’s beard.

He smiled in return. Washing it away was one thing. Trying to forget what he had done was another. He just had to remind himself that it _had_ to be done. For the sake of getting out of that mess alive, finding Carl and Michonne, and finding Daryl.

They collected some water in a couple used plastic bottles to boil later. Also, for Daryl. They still had a long road ahead of them with his injuries. Most likely a few days, minimum. Enough to allow some healing.

Rick could see the railroad tracks from where they were. And a painted sign that advertised Terminus. Much like all the others they had come across.

“Maybe we could give this Terminus place a chance. Could probably find some help there. Maybe the others, too. Daryl made it this far.” Rick was hopeful.

“Yeah… Maybe.” Michonne stood back up from her crouched position over the creek bed. “In the meantime, let’s get back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this little fic. Sorry if it came off as abrupt or bouncing all over the place. I had to write something to try and get back into the groove of things, and this turned out to be the result.
> 
> Thanks, guys.


End file.
